by Muhammad YUSUF
Oh, my father’s birthplace,
My lovely motherland,
Let me lay my soul on your shade.
You are the most benignant,
You are so great,
For Rome– your clover-field – I cannot trade.
The Earth is covered with water and slopes,
I saw many countries, fates and hopes,
Your mountains uphold me and follow,
Asking to be proud high and low.
I met the most adorable white hands,
It seems I am naïve or a self-lover –
Since for me the best Paris restaurants
Before your tandoor are out of favor.
I can’t speak a foreign language,
I don’t sleep and comfort leaves my mind –
What to do in three days if I anguish?
Will remain unfinished all the ride.
I perceive that you are my most sublime,
I accept this soil the closest stop.
A lamb that’s born in Bakhmal in springtime
To me is better than the Arabian antelope.
Each day I spend with you is a big fete,
Without you I’m scared, I’m full of worry.
I welcome those who know you and respect,
For those who don’t know you I feel sorry.
( Translated by A’zam Obid)